Thursday, March 24, 2011

We got the text early yesterday morn. Cameron's water broke around midnight, and she headed to the birthing center in Taos around 4 am. We all prayed for Cam and this babe before school this morn, and our kiddos were awaiting the news of their new baby girl cousin when I picked them up at 3:00.
Waiting.
Anticipating.
For new life that brings new hope.
I wrote about Cam a few years ago when she was pregnant with Rowan, now nearly three years old. The short story is that after adopting her first two babies, she adopted an embryo and was able to give birth to sweet Rowan. Last summer during our visit to the mountains, Cameron told me that she was done, she felt closure, that as she was attending recent births as a doula, she really felt like their family was complete. So about a month later, having returned home from celebrating their fifteenth anniversary, she texted a photo of a pregnancy test - positive. And other than with Rowan, this was the first positive test EVER in fifteen years.
You can imagine the shock, the joy, and the reveling in God's surprises we all experienced.

So yesterday, all day, she embraced labor pains with this new little girl. With Alan and Mama and seven-year-old Nettie by her side, she worked on ushering this precious little one into the world. Rowan's birth, oddly enough, necessitated a Cesarean. Crazy. Cameron has worked as a doula for a decade and a half, was delivering with her own doula and a couple of midwives, and Rowan just wouldn't budge. So we were hoping for a more pleasant (shorter!) birth experience with this one...

Pate Marjorie Benjamin

Pate decided after 23 hours of laboring that she did not want to be born naturally. Thankfully, Pate and Cameron are doing great. Pate weighed in at about 7 lbs 6.9 oz, March 24th at 12:04 a.m.

So it's been a long wait. A long labor, long delivery, but even more so, fifteen years of waiting and yearning and praying and hoping.
And with Pate here safe and sound, a gift worth waiting for.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Two down, sixty-one to go.
That's how many baseball games I entered into our family calendar a couple of weeks ago.
Essie's playing this year, so that makes three teams we get to cheer on.

I think we can get to all 63 games as long as our coaches don't schedule any practices.

So last night was opening night. As it happened, both Bran and Hud threw the first pitches in the opening games for their respective teams. And as it also happened, both games started at the exact same time.

Daboo and I started off at Hudson's game, because he had informed me the night before that I'd seen Branson pitch plenty of times. Not having played fall ball, this was his first kid-pitch game ever.

A new era for us with this one on the mound

Man, those pants are white

Cappy and Corbin watched Bran's team during warm ups and then for the first inning or so. Pretty soon we started zigzagging fields and crossing paths, trying to catch both our boys with any hint of action.

Bran in his windup

The socks produced instant team camaraderie

At one point I called Corbin to check on Bran's game.
"He's walking up to bat."
"So is Hud!"
"Ok, he's got a full count."
"So does Hud!
Pause. "Struck out."
Pause. "So did Hud."

Both teams did fine, one win and one loss, but the best part is that it's over. The first game, the first time on the field as a newly-organized team, and an opportunity to get the jitters out.

Essie is a Phillie this Spring, and she's not about to be outdone by her older brothers. She's SERIOUS. And she's got us seriously grinning from ear to ear.